Wilted
by Elvendork27
Summary: Becoming Lily Evans was one of the easiest things Natasha Romanoff had ever done.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer - I do not own Harry Potter of the Avengers**

—-

It was not hard to be Lily Potter, Natasha Romanoff mused, as she sat down on their sofa. Her legs were casually propped up on the coffee table, something that she scolded James for doing, but did herself in secret. It was hypocritical, sure, but Natasha didn't care. She was Lily Potter now, and that was the type of thing Lily Potter would do.

When she had been eighteen, Lily Evans was tragically killed when she drowned in the river near her home after being tripped up and into the water by a particularly gnarled tree root.

She had never learnt to swim.

When she had not come home the first night, her parents had presumed that she was out with friends, as young girls were frequently doing these days. After all, it was the seventies, and things were not the same as when they were children, they anxiously reassured each other. But after a few days, Lily's mother and father rang the police to report a missing persons. By this point, the Red Room, whom had been looking for a way to infiltrate the Wizarding community of the British Isles and gather as much information about the conflict that was bordering on a full scale civil war, had already found out about her death and had put Natasha Romanoff in her place. They looked somewhat similar, with green eyes, red hair, and pale skin. It would have been easy to mistake the two girls. So when the police had started to search for Lily, they found someone who looked very much like her stumbling around the nearby forests, her clothing ripped and stained from grass and mud. And if anyone had noticed that her hair was a little shorter, or that she was slightly smaller, no one said anything, as they were all so overjoyed to have their darling little girl back.

Although all of the other aspects of Lily's life came easily to Natasha, it was harder to fake her absence of magic. When she was with Lily's parents, it was easier, as Lily was not allowed to do magic in front of Muggles. It was much trickier to disguise her lack of magic to her friends and James, so she had to pretend to have a severe case of Wizarding Flu, which, when bad enough, could completely drain a wizard or witches magical core. It could take up to and past five years for their core to be replenished, and by that time Natasha was fairly sure that she would not be on this mission. For her purposes, she was extremely pleased to hear that the illness had no known cure, and only rest and good luck could cure a potentially fatal case. So for the whole summer, she faked a nasty case of Wizarding Flu, and once it had been deemed to be gone in late November, James had made her visit St Mungos to get a proper heath evaluation. As expected, she was physically and mentally sound, but her core had been drained completely, so much that the man had looked at Natasha with a slightly baffled expression and proclaimed that it seemed to be almost not there. But then he had shook his head and said that it would fully come back in about six years, which made James' mouth swing open, his face uncomprehending. She had played her part well, letting a few tears leak out of the corner of her eyes, feeling James' arm wrap around her shoulders consolingly. She let the black haired man lead her out of the hospital and out onto the street, before he held on tighter to her, turned on the spot and they disappeared together.

—-

It had been ten months since Lily's recovery, and Natasha was in Eritrea, smothering a man whilst he slept. His body started to convulse wildly, his chest spasming and arms flapping. And then he was dead, his body still and the muscles relaxed. Natasha stood up and checked the time according to the clock hanging on the wall. It was 03:49 in Asmera, and that meant that it was forty nine minutes past midnight in England… James always got up at 07:30, which left her with… six hours and forty one minutes to report back, give her report on the goings on in England, and be back to James' side when he wakes up in the morning.

It still befuddled her, how a man can be so completely enamoured with this woman and not even realise it wasn't the same person they were so deeply in love with. There were many differences in their looks - Natasha's cheekbones were higher, her lips poutier, her nose was a completely different and her eyes were narrower; not to mention that they had different figures and both favoured clothes of very contrasting designs and styles. But, still, she gave her report and was flown back to England, where she speedily removed her Natasha Romanoff clothes and slipped on her Lily Evans clothes.

And when James awoke only half an hour later to the sight of his sleeping girlfriend, he smiled and began fishing his clothes for work off the floor.

—-

Lily spent her days studying the theoretical side of magic. It made her feel closer to the world she was denied, partly because of her muggleborn status and her currently magic-less state. It also made her feel like she was contributing to the war efforts, as Lily Evans longed to be out there, fighting for her right to be a part of the Wizarding society. And this meant that Lily tended to be at home a lot, as she formed a lot of her hypothesises and theories in front of the fire, the cat mewling at its catnip mouse. This meant that every day, at six pm on the dot, she would hear a loud pop outside her door and greet James with a smile and a kiss on the lips.

It was because of this routine that Natasha noticed that there was something wrong with James. He was fidgety, and his hand had been firmly tucked in his pocket, even when they kissed, and he kept on peering furtively at her back as she cooked dinner. But she was Lily now, so she pretended not to notice, but Natasha had already figured it out.

She turned around to get of the carrots where she nearly tripped over James, where he was kneeling on one knee, a box clasped in his hands, and inside it was a large diamond ring with a gold band. It was simple and elegant, which was exactly the kind of thing that Lily would love. And when he looked up at there through dark eyelashes, a nervously hopeful look on his face, Natasha and Lily were both telling her the same thing.

And so she said yes, her heart soaring as she said it -

Only for it to be brought back down with a nasty bump.

And when James was asleep, she gazed at the ring, and knew that she was coming dangerously close to loving him.

—-


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer - I do not own Harry Potter or the Avengers**

—-

Their wedding was a minimal affair, with only close family and friends in attendance. Both Lily and Natasha were over the moon, as Lily had always dreamed of walking up the aisle in a big, white, poufy wedding dress,whereas Natasha had never thought that she would ever get married. She had extremely expensive champagne and shoved cake in James' face, both of them wearing a wide, silly grin. Sirius had teased her and thumped James on the back repeatedly; Remus had given them both a hearty congratulations, his second - hand suit wrinkling at the too - big shoulders when he embraced them. And Peter had made appalling jokes, each one worse and worse, but they all laughed good-naturedly at them anyway.

The picture taking was a dull affair, but Lily and Natasha enjoyed it anyway. She stood in pictures with her new husband (and didn't that bring a smile to her face), Sirius, whom insisted on being called the 'Bestest Man Ever', Remus and Peter and her mother and father (sadly, James' mother and father had died just over a year ago) and she even had pictures taken with Petunia and Vernon before they deemed the whole affair beneath them and stormed out (Lily had been almost inconsolable, whilst Natasha secretly rejoiced - they were some of the foulest people she had ever come across).

They slow danced to Bach and Schubert, Lily having to remind James to not stand on her feet. Sirius then thought it would be funny to put on some Wizarding band that both Lily and Natasha had never heard of; judging by the way James' head immediately whipped round to where the music was coming from and the sudden influx of dancers, everyone else had. The music was loud and not at all appropriate for a wedding, but Natasha found her toes tapping in their ridiculously high heels and before long, she herself was dancing, her arms wild and feet uncontrollable, her laugh infectious.

Then the wedding was over, and she was being lifted bridal style by James. They shared a slightly nervous grin, before stepping outside. They had a few seconds, in which they tried to get to the awaiting portkey as fast as possible, but, alas, they were too slow. Rice rained down on them from all sides - and she suspected the Marauders of throwing some purposefully hard with the aid of magic. They reached the portkey, and on that clear, crisp, _cold_ day in October, Lily Evans was made a Potter.

And, in a way, so was Natasha Romanoff.

—-

Their honeymoon had been spent in Paris, and they spent half the time exploring the city and the other half in their hotel room, doing slightly more… unsavoury things.

So when they got home and Natasha felt slightly ill in the mornings, to the point that she would throw up, she presumed it was something she ate or the like. But just to be sure, she popped to the pharmacist in the quaint little town they lived in, which had the peculiar name of Godric's Hollow, and got a pregnancy test. Natasha felt like strangling the woman behind the counter, as she just wouldn't shut up, but Lily was happy to chat and say that yes, she might be pregnant, fingers crossed, smiling and laughing all the while. And then she left, walked home at a sedentary pace, to the world looking calm and collected, a faint smile on her face.

But inside, her stomach felt like it was home to a large number of writhing snakes. It was not the threat of impending motherhood that was causing her such discomfort, but the fact that out of the corner of her eye, she had caught sight of a small spider carved on the side of a tree.

The Red Room were calling her.

And, for once, Natasha didn't know what to do.

—-

It had been two minutes, which had consisted of Natasha anxiously wringing her hands, twisting her wedding ring around her finger and patting her thighs. The kitchen alarm went off, and Natasha didn't even bother turning off the alarm before snatching up the pregnancy test.

Positive.

—-

It was eleven in the morning when she got a knock on the door. She opened it carefully, and was greeted by a tall man in a suit, a sleek Bentley parked on the street beside her house.

"Ms Romanoff, please come with me."

And so she did.

—-

She was escorted down pristine hallways by men in suits, and she wished that she was wearing her Black Widow catsuit instead of the old, flared jeans and blue jumper that were favoured by Lily Potter. The suit made her feel strong, and she knew she would need it. She idly wondered where she was. She didn't think she was back in Russia, but she didn't know of any other Red Room bases.

Anything to keep her mind off the inevitable.

She was finally lead to a small, box - like room. There were chairs on either side of a simple table, and Natasha felt a sickening pang in her gut when she saw the room.

It was an interrogation room.

She carefully perched on the chair facing away from the door, and heard the heavy door close with an ominous, resounding bang. She began to nervously play with her - no, Lily's wedding ring, twisting it around and around her finger, pulling it off and putting it back on again. She did this for an undisclosed amount of time, for once her whole attention on the ring, when she heard the door open. Quickly, she slipped the ring back on her finger and stood up, her back ramrod straight and a poker face set in place. The man that had walked in dwarfed Natasha, and she suddenly felt out of her depth.

It didn't help that she had no idea who the man was.

The man sat, ands Natasha took that as permission for her to sit down as well. There was an odd, lingering silence for a few minutes, in which Natasha looked at her feet and the man looked around the room. It was finally broken by the sound of the man's voice.

"Do you know why you are here, Ms Romanoff?"

Startled, Natasha's head whipped back up to look at the man, before she slowly said "No, sir."

"You are here because we were thinking of removing you from your current…" His eyes roved her form, taking in the clothes, the bags under her eyes and the unwashed hair "Predicament."

Suddenly, it was a lot harder to keep her expression deadpan.

"But," he continued, "That was before we heard the _happy_ news."

Now, it was getting really hard to make sure her face was neutral.

"With all due respect, sir," Natasha replied, her voice strong and clear "What are you implying?"

"Oh, you know _exactly_ what I'm implying."

Her lips were beginning to tremble, but still she tried to convince him that she had no idea what he was talking about.

"Your surprise pregnancy, of course."

"Ah," she said, her voice trembling almost imperceptibly. "That."

"Yes. That."

After another silence, the man, once again, broke it.

"So, I think you can see my problem. On one hand, we keep hold of you, our best agent, but then there comes the inconvenience of having a child follow you. Of course, if it was a girl," his voice took on a contemplative tone "We could always put them into the Red Room initiative, but if it was a boy…" It was here that his musing tone cut off, only to be replaced with a cold one "We wouldn't find out for a few months, and it would be rather counter-productive to have an agent who would be out of action for over five months."

Natasha paled, even though she felt furiously angry inside.

"The other option would to have you killed, but that would leave too many loose ends and fuss and whatnot." he sighed, waving a hand around, before his face was overcome with a feral grin.

"But, you have been good to us… you've been a good little Black Widow, haven't you?" He said, and Natasha was so tempted to rise to the bait, but she held her tongue. "So, we are going to give you what you want."

And at that moment, men and women alike burst into the room. She was grabbed, her arms behind her back and her feet were held together. She began to scream and struggle, but before she was lead out of the room, she heard the man crow -

"Goodbye, Natasha Romanoff!"

And she was lead to a room full of strange equipment and strapped into a machine.

She felt tears run down her face.

There was a brief lull in the activity, in which every face was pointed at her. She was suddenly hyper aware of her body, of her red hair and her small feet and the tear tracks stained on her face, before a sudden onslaught of fake, fake, FAKE thoughts and experiences overtook her brain, in which she really was Lily Potter, wife of James Potter, and she really was magical, but he had fallen ill and it was taken away from her, in which she missed her magic and was excited to have a family.

Her brain began to battle with the fraudulent thoughts. But it was a losing battle, and Natasha Romanoff slipped away.

—-

It was six in the evening, and a pop sounded outside of the Potter household. Rushing to the door, Lily Potter kissed her husband and lead him to the living room, where she tearfully announced her pregnancy. James Potter laughed and laughed, wrapping his hands around his wife and spinning her around.

Natasha Romanoff was not missed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer - I do not own Harry Potter or the Avengers.**

In her eyes, Lily Potter's life was perfect. She had a wonderful husband, brilliant friends and sure, she no longer had her magic, but now she had a beautiful baby boy cradled in her arms.

He was small and quite skinny (though the healer said that that was normal), pale skin and was in every aspect his fathers son except for the eyes, which were Lily's. They didn't know his eye colour yet, as his eyes were still the blue of newborn babies, but Lily was willing to bet that they'd be the same emerald green as her eyes. Of course, the Marauders had put a bet on it, with Sirius and Remus betting that it would be James' hazel colour, whilst Peter and James himself thought the same as Lily. Their baby had come into the world screaming, his cheeks stained red and skin mottled. James and Lily were both immediately in love with their child, and so they had called him Harry.

A trainee Healer (judging by the orange robes and badge around their neck) came over and explained to James and herself that he would be doing some routine checks on their baby, and Lily had the slightest, most fleeting urge to deny the man and to kick him where it hurt for trying to take away _her_ baby (_where did that come from?) _before shaking her head slightly and handing her baby (her baby!) over to the man, her arms shaking due to the after effect of giving birth - at least, she thought so.

—-

Miles away in the Scottish highlands, a wizened old man sat in his office, reading a book. It was late but the man did not care, as he had very nearly finished the chapter he was on. After a couple of minutes, he put the book down on his desk and leant back in his chair, taking a yellow sweet from the bowl on his table and popping it into his mouth. he had just thought to close his eyes for a second when he heard the faint flapping of wings.

His eyes blearily opening, he looked into the rafters of the large room and saw an owl descending on his table. Opening the second drawer down on his desk, his hand aimlessly wandered around for the pack of owl treats. Finding them, he plucked a few out of the package before calling the owl onto his outstretched arm. Giving the owl the treats, he untied the letter from its legs. Strangely, the letter was made out of muggle card.

A sinking feeling materialised in Albus Dumbledore's stomach as he looked down at the notice that was so similar to the one that he had gotten only yesterday from the Longbottoms.

After scanning the letter over with eyes that were now wide awake, he went back to the desk and placed his head in his hands.

What was he meant to do now?

—-

Lily would forever remember the moment that Harry had his first bout of accidental magic. He had been only five months old - quite young for accidental magic to start, they must be so proud! - and it had been late at night. James had been at an Order Of the Phoenix meeting (and didn't it irritate her to no ends that she couldn't attend), and she had been reading the Evening Prophet, one hand absently stroking the cat, when she heard a cry from upstairs. Putting down the newspaper, she climbed the stairs to Harry's nursery and cradled him in her arms.

But whatever she did, whether it be singing to him or trying to feed him, he wouldn't stop crying. She was at a loss and desperate when Harry held out his hand and from downstairs came whizzing his toy monkey that Remus had given him after a day of unsuccessful job hunting.

Lily had stood in shock for a few minutes before she began to laugh and spin Harry around in circles. And when James came in and saw them, he joined in too.

And how far they had come from that day, thought Lily, as she gazed at her husband, who was shooting trails of multicoloured smoke out of his wand, which Harry was trying to catch. Before he could complain (adult and child alike), Lily scooped Harry up and said to no one in particular -

"Its time for bed, Harry, isn't it, _Daddy_. Come on, be a good boy for mummy."

James looked at Lily and sighed good-naturedly,

"Fine. I was, uh, about to do that anyway."

They both looked at each other for a second and then burst out laughing, before there was an almighty creek outside from their old gate. Paling, James shouted -

"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off -"

Lily took one last terrified glance at her husband, and then sprinted up the stairs to Harry's nursery, trying in vain to find a way out (she even tried _apparating_, for goodness sake! She had no magic!) before placing Harry in his cot and finding items - shoe boxes, a small bookcase, a crate full of toys - to block the door from being opened.

Even though she was terrified and her plan was not going to work, she still felt in her element. She had always been best under pressure, with adrenaline coursing through her veins and fear tinted with a hint of excitement and familiarity (which made no sense) zipping thought her nerves, which was part of the reason that she had wanted to join the Order so desperately. It was due to this sudden power that Lily Potter was able to move things that she usually wouldn't have had a hope of being able to push, let alone carry to the door, creating a makeshift barrier.

She knew she only had a few seconds before Voldemort would burst into her room, so she whispered him a few choice words, staring into eyes that were carbon copies of her own - mummy loves you, daddy loves you, be safe, be _strong_ - before the door was flung open. and time seemed to stand still for a second, before Lily did the only thing a magic - less, desperate woman would have done.

"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"

She begged.

"Stand aside you silly girl … stand aside now." The abomination - _Voldemort_ - said sinuously, a cruel laugh and a smirk twisting his face, bright red eyes seemingly boring into her.

"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead - " She continued to beg, her hands splayed out either side of her, as if that would protect her infant charge.

"Not Harry! Please … have mercy … have mercy… "

Voldemort looked at her, a taunting smile curling at his lips, before chanting "_Stupefy_!"

Before she fell, she heard Voldemort whisper something about Severing and favours.

Her head hit the ground.

And suddenly, Lily Potter - Muggleborn, mother, wife, sister - it all fell away, and was replaced with Natasha Romanoff - Spy, assassin, muggle and now a mother - fell back into place.

And then she passed out.

—-

Her head was spinning, and everything around her was in flames. Jumping up, Natasha felt sore head, a vague memory of cognitive recalibration twirling around in her head. Standing up straight, she looked around her, her eyes landing on several things - the pile of robes a few feet away from her, the blown-in door, the empty crib, the -

Wait, the empty crib?

Hurrying over to it, it was indeed empty, and Natasha hurried downstairs to try and find James, and find him she did, laid in their hallway, quite prominently dead.

Sinking to her knees, she tried to figure out where her baby - and yes, Harry was hers - was. her parents and James' were dead, Petunia and Vernon hated her, Remus, Peter and Sirius wouldn't have known yet, and the Hogwarts staff couldn't look after a baby.

So she was presumed dead, her husband and most likely her baby were gone, and her house was on fire, along with most of her possessions.

Natasha Romanoff screamed and stumbled into the forest that bordered her home, delirious and, for once in her life, vulnerable.

Her cries went unheard over the rumble in the sky that was definitely not thunder.

—-

**Thanks for reading!**

**About the timeline - I'm not sure whether to do it in the 1990's with younger Avengers and a younger Harry, or do it in 2012 with the normal Avengers and a older Harry… it doesn't really affect the plot of this story in any way, so let me know what you think and the most popular option will be selected.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer - I do not own Harry Potter or the Avengers.**

Natasha really missed James.

She missed his mischievous smiles and excited eyes, she missed the slight chip he had on his front tooth, she missed his ruffled hair and lean frame. He was the first person to ever give her love, and even though it was not hers to miss, she longed, begged for it all the same. And, before, she prided herself on displaying her emotions, but now she was like a stone slate. She had let people in once, and she wasn't going to make that mistake again.

It didn't stop her from yearning for James.

And, of course, there was her little baby Harry, with his big, exultant green eyes, his mop of messy black hair, a beautiful smile, and a breathtaking laugh. She remembered holding Harry, balancing him on her hips, and singing him Russian lullabies, with James bustling about in the background. She recollected trying to feed Harry, only to have him fling the spoonful of mush in her face. She had sat there, shocked, before she heard uproarious, gregarious laughing and the bright flash of a Wizarding camera; she then proceeded to chase James around the house, getting her baby-food splattered clothes even dirtier.

She had never gotten him to get rid of that picture.

She felt a slight grin curve on her face, and that was all it took for her to become distracted - one slip of the hand later, she was staring down the wrong side of a bow and arrow, a man with cropped blonde hair and blue eyes smirking at her. Lowering the arrow slightly, he announced -

"My name's Hawkeye. Hi. I would lower the arrow, but, y'know…"

She felt handcuffs sinuously writhing their way around her wrists, but she kept her eyes on the man. _Hawkeye_.

And as she was marched away, her mind was not thinking how to escape, but that surely what was ahead will have to be better than what she's leaving behind.

—-

31st July 1992. Harry's birthday.

Harry himself was sat on his bed, smiling faintly as he traced the faces of his parents in the book of photos Hagrid had gifted him with. Turning the page, he saw one of him giggling bemusedly as he flung food at his mum, his mum sitting still, a look of stupefaction plastered on her face until she looked up at the person behind the camera and jumped on him, revealing a shot of his dads amused face as they began to chase each other. The photo then looped back to the beginning and Harry sighed, flipping to the back of the book to where there was a picture of his parents twirling in leaves, oblivious to the world, and one of them at Hogwarts, sitting underneath the big oak tree near the lake. Looking between the two pictures, he thought of how much his parents had been in love, only to jolt back after a few seconds.

The woman in the picture in the leaves wasn't the same as the woman on the rock.

Flipping back to the baby food picture, and the wedding pictures, he confirmed that yes, they were different people. The one that appeared in the newer pictures was much more curvy then the relatively slim woman in the school pictures. Their eyes were different shades of green, the old pictures a startling emerald, and the woman in the newer pictures had a paler bottle green colour - the same as his eyes. He had the newer pictures woman' s nose and lips but nothing of the later woman. Even though she might have gone through puberty late, no one can change that much over the course of about a year, not even with magic.

What was going on?

—-

Meanwhile, Natasha was kneeling in a containment room, eyes closed and hands on her lap. At first glance she looked to be praying, but the further you looked, the less likely that seemed. She was thinking about her baby.

Natasha had once gone to visit the Dursleys, out of a desperate hope that used to exist. She had gone, but seen no sign of her baby, but only the strange sight of Petunia kneeling down and rapping on the cupboard door a few times. She had presumed that they had had an unruly dog or something like that, even though Petunia hated animals; Natasha was willing to bet money that if her little Dudley wanted a dog, then they would have one.

She didn't know why she went to the Dursleys. They were despicable people, and Harry was to go to Sirius Black in the event that they passed away. She didn't know what happened to Sirius after that fateful night, but she wished he was okay. She may never know what happened to him, as she was a muggle, and they couldn't get past the wards erected by wizards even if she tried.

Suddenly, the door opened, and a man in a suit with blonde - brown hair and an earpiece stepped in. Opening his mouth, he said -

"Ma'am, you're going to have to come with me now. Will I have to restrain you?" His voice was a slightly creepy deadpan, and his poker face was magnificent.

"No… You don't have to restrain me. Just, just give me a moment." She asked, her voice cracking slightly.

She put her head in her hands, and the only thing she cold think was that she was sorry. Standing up, her face once more impassive, she called out -

"I'm coming."

—-

Contrary to her belief that she was to be killed, she had been lead into a room with a man with a eyepatch sitting at an obscenely large table with plush chairs and Hawkeye perching in the corner on top of a filing cabinet. She had been offered a position in the strategic homeland intervention enforcement and logistics division of the US government (they really needed to find something shorter) and after a second of deliberating all the people she had killed, directly or indirectly, she quickly agreed. She was currently running on a treadmill, knowing that after this test, she would be subjected to some of the hardest mental and physical challenge, and even if she passed them but they thought she would betray them or they plain didn't like her, she would be killed. Looking at the big mirror that covered one side of the room, she knew it was a one-sided mirror.

Really, she wasn't stupid.

—-

On the other side of the mirror, Agent Coulson and Director Fury watched the Black Widow roll her eyes at the mirror and continue jogging.

"She knows this is a one sided mirror." Fury commented

"of course she does. She's not stupid." Coulson replied, a touch of amusement entering his tone.

After a few more seconds of watching the woman run, Fury turned to Coulson.

"So, why did you call me down here?"

Coulson glanced at Fury and sighed before announcing -

"The Black Widow, otherwise known as Natasha Romanov, has been pregnant."

The only sign that Fury had heard was the slight widening of his remaining eye.

"Go on." He commanded.

"Well, her body shows all the signs of having been in labour - her pain threshold is extremely high, and she has faded stretch marks on her stomach that fall in patterns that pregnant women get."

"Have we tried looking for the baby?"

"We put some of her DNA through the tester, but either the baby was stillborn or has never been to hospital; there were no positive results."

"How old would the child be now?"

"Approximately eleven or twelve years old, sir."

After a couple more moments of silence, Coulson asked -

'Sir, should we tell her we know?"

"No."

—-

In the end, their decision to not tell Natasha that they knew she had had a child fell through, as Hawkeye told her anyway.

"Hey, Romanov!" Natasha heard a call for her, but she ignored it. She was tired and wanted to go to get some rest, even though she had no idea where she was to sleep. Hearing the call again, she whipped round, to see it was Hawkeye.

"Hey. Again. My name isn't actually Hawkeye, you know. Its Clint. Clint Barton. Nice to meet you." He stuck out his hand, which Natasha promptly ignored. The hand promptly fell, and the man announced that she was to follow him to her room. Sighing, she followed.

"So," Barton began, "Is it true that you had a baby?"

Stopping in her tracks, Natasha hissed -

"How do you know that?"

"So it is true!" Barton said, and, upon seeing her expressionless face, continued, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

"Well, the tests said so, didn't they? Was it a boy or a girl?"

Natasha stared at Clint Barton, taking in his alert form and blue eyes. Her eyes stopped on his grin, which looked so much like James' that she nearly winced.

She decided to trust this man.

**Thank you for reading! As you hopefully could tell, I am going for older Harry, as that was the one that I got the most reviews and PMs about.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer - I don't own either Harry Potter or The Avengers.**

—**-**

The more Harry looked at the photo album, the more he realised he was just being silly. The two women were clearly the same person, right? Well, it was a big change for someone to go through, Harry thought slowly, but it wasn't all that improbable, was it? Shaking his head, he finished his meagre meal and trekked back into the garden, intent on finishing his chores before Aunt Petunia came and decided to hit him with a frying pan again.

When he looked back on the day later that night - which went from spying a pair of bulbous eyes in the rose bushes to all his stuff being locked in the cupboard under the stairs - he decided that he needed to sort some things out. And first on that list was his mum dilemma.

Pulling his photo album out from under the loose floorboard, he flicked between the pictures of his mum at school and his mum after Hogwarts.

He needed to know.

—-

"Um, Professor?" Harry spoke up tentatively after Transfiguration finished. Ron and Hermione looked at him bemusedly, and he gestured at them to go on. He didn't need them there.

McGonagall whirled around, before blinking a few times when she saw Harry. Regaining her composure, she spoke in a curt tone.

"Mr Potter, what seems to be the problem?"

"Well, Professor," Harry spoke up, before deciding that if he was going to do it, he might as well go all out. " I… I mean… Well, I don't know much about my parents, but I know they were in Gryffindor," For added effect, Harry looked down and then looked at McGonagall through his eyelashes, his voice vulnerable and soft.

"…. Could you maybe tell me about them?"

"Take a seat then," McGonagall replied, her voice soft. " I'll try my best… Have a biscuit, Potter." She said, offering him a tartan tin full of Ginger Newts. Taking one and sitting down, Harry began to nibble tentatively at the biscuit, his full attention on McGonagall.

" James and Lily… What a pair! Your father was a Chaser, and he was also Head Boy; he had a prodigal talent at Transfiguration, but he was quite the prankster. Your mother, however, was very kind and gentle, and she, too was Head Girl… She was very good at Charms and Potions, if I remember rightly…" McGonagall trailed off, and Harry internally sighed. She sounded like Hermione did when she was reciting a textbook word for word - little emotion, except for a strange weariness, and a certain reluctance. Deciding to try a different route, he continued his questioning.

" What about after they'd finished at Hogwarts?"

"Well, I didn't see your mother at all after school - but, I did hear that she'd caught a nasty case of Wizarding Flu - and I didn't see your father, except at meetings for the Or-" It was there that McGonagall stopped short, before saying -

"That is quite enough for now, Potter."

Rubbing a hand over his face, Harry picked up his bag and thanked McGonagall for her time, and left.

What a waste of time.

—-

It had been a year since his last disastrous attempt, and now he was sitting in Lupin's office, drinking tea whilst his friends were at Hogsmeade. By his calculations, Lupin was the same age as his parents would have been, so he decided to give it another go.

After another horrifically long silence Harry coughed awkwardly, before speaking up.

'Sir, am I right in thinking that you knew my parents?"

Smiling softly, as in caught in memories, Lupin replied -

"Yes, I knew them both very well."

"Well, I was wondering if you could help me?"

" Well, what seems to be the problem, Harry?" Lupin stated pleasantly, and there was something in his scarred his face that instinctively told Harry to trust him.

"I have a problem," Pulling out his bag from under his feet, he drew out these picture album (he didn't like leaving it in the dormitory ever since Ginny had managed to get into the room and steal Tom Riddle's diary so easily) and showed the professor.

"Well, you see, this picture was taken during Hogwarts, and this one was taken after, because I'm in this one… and my mum looks nothing alike in these pictures, but they're supposedly the same person!"

Lupin appeared to be staring into the depths of his tea, before his head snapped up and his amber eyes met with Harry's own bottle green ones, before saying in a careful, measured voice -

"Harry, can I please see those pictures?"

Handing them over silently, he saw Lupin's eyes scanning the pictures before jerking back a little bit, his eyes wide. Gripping the pictures so hard that Harry thought they might tear, Lupin looked up, a feverish glint in his eyes.

"Harry, do you have other photos like this?" Lupin asked.

Giving Lupin the album, Harry sat back in his chair silently, sipping his now tepid tea and scuffing his shoes on the floor. He saw a Grindylow in a tank by the window, and a bookshelf practically groaning with books and assorted treasures, such as a strange spinning top contraption and a set of Gobstones.

It had been a couple of minutes now, and Lupin was still flicking through the picture library, his expression getting gradually more closed off as the minutes ticked by.

Suddenly snapping the book closed, Lupin, once again, looked into Harry's eyes, before glancing at the picture of before and after Hogwarts ended in turn, and then back at Harry. Suddenly businesslike, Lupin snapped the book closed, put the pictures that Harry had given him on top, and slid them across the desk, his hands clasped in his lap.

"We'll get this sorted out, Harry. I promise." Lupin swore, and then he looked at his entwined hands and mumbled -

"We're going to have to."

Harry knew that that wasn't meant for him.

—-

Harry was, for once, alone. Hermione had gone to talk to Professor Flitwick, and, well, Ron had been ignoring him ever since his name came out that thrice - damned Cup. He found his feet dragging him to Hagrid's hut. Knocking at the door, Hagrid burst out, before spying Harry and giving him a quick, gruff hug. Having been invited in, he was now sitting with a pitcher of pumpkin juice and an overflowing plate of rock cakes in front of him. Hagrid, after observing him for a few seconds, exclaimed -

"Why, 'Arry, every time I see yer, you look more an' more like yeh dad! But, o' course, you have yer mums eyes… " And from there, he went on a long - winded tangent about his parents.

Whilst Hagrid had his own brand of logic and a certain weary wiseness about him, but Harry knew that he'd be no help to his plight.

But still, it had been ages since he'd last seen Hagrid, and the cabin was warm compared to the snowy exterior. Chatting and laughing, Harry felt better than he had in a long time.

—-

Lupin - Remus, Harry reminded himself, Remus - glanced at him, before saying -

"Are you sure you want to do this, Harry?" His eyes were kind and his face compassionate, and for a moment Harry thought about what was on the other side of that door, and he almost said no, before nodding his head decisively. Yes, he thought, it was time I got some answers.

Opening the door, Sirius was sitting, glaring at a charred, burnt spot on the large tapestry that wrapped around the whole room. Sirius' head barely moved when he heard the door open, but his silvery grey, sunken eyes swivelled around to Harry, and then Remus behind him. Standing up, a happy smile on his face, he exclaimed -

"Harry! Remus! What brings you -" And with that, his grin twisted and became more like a grimace - "To _this_," Sirius gestured around the room, sneering at the family tree, "Part of the house?"

"Well, actually, Sirius, we wanted to talk to you about something." Remus began, and Harry was content to let him do the taking. He wasn't sure he was up to this, what, with his frequent night terrors and restless nights, and that he wasn't sure how Sirius would react. Wordlessly passing the pictures and the photo album over to Remus, he heard the man, as if from a distance, explain their meeting in Third year. After Remus had finished, he felt Sirius' eyes dart betweenRemus and Harry himself, as if hardly believing it and expecting it to be some elaborate practical joke. Obviously not finding what he was hoping to find, Harry heard a rustle, as Sirius had just opened up the the photo album. A few seconds later, Harry saw Sirius put the album carefully on a wooden side table, laying the separate pictures on top almost reverently, before he stood up and left the room.

Remus put his head in his hands, rubbed his eyes and looked at Harry, whom was staring at the door.

"Well, at least we tried. Sirius was always very hard to predict, even before Azkaban. I wasn't expecting that, though…" Remus trailed off.

The next time he saw Sirius, he was acting like the previous conversation never happened.

Harry couldn't say he was surprised.

—-

Sixth year came and went, and his Seventh year seemed to have merged into a tent that smelt of cats and an almost constant fear in his memory. Harry didn't have the time to continue the, in his opinion, pointless search. Remus was dead, Sirius was dead, hell, even Pettigrew was dead… the only people that could've helped him were gone, so he stopped trying. Anyway, it was 1999 - seventeen years since that night, and it probably didn't matter anymore. Whoever his mother was, she had been killed by a fateful Avada Kedavra. So, Harry, who was walking around Muggle London with Ron and Hermione flat - hunting, decided to let it go.

And as Harry was laughing with Ron and teasing Hermione gently in the streets of London, he didn't see a man with pale blue eyes and cropped blonde hair snap a picture of him, an oddly shaped guitar case strapped to his back.

—-

"Um, Natahsa?" Clint questioned quietly.

"Yes, Clint?" Natahsa replied suspiciously. Normally, after a mission, especially one abroad ( "_England, Nat!" Clint had crowed excitedly. Natasha had rolled her eyes.)_, Clint was much more exuberant.

"Well, you know you showed me those pictures of… James?" Clint asked, still to quiet.

"Yes." Natasha's voice was razor - sharp, and she swung around to aim her mighty glare at Clint.

"Well…" Clint said, fishing a few Polaroid pictures out of his pocket. Taking them gingerly, and with a hint of distrust, Natasha glanced down, only to recoil suddenly.

On those pictures was James. Her James, with messy black hair and messy hazel eyes - looking back at the picture, Natasha noticed that the person didn't have hazel eyes, but bottle green eyes - _her eyes_. Her eyes devouring the small picture. she saw other things - her eyes, her nose, her lips.

Her Harry.

Looking back at Clint, eyes wide, he hurriedly explained -

"I was in London, and I saw him wandering around with this girl and a boy - the girl had kinda bushy brown hair, and the boy was the brightest ginger I've ever seen and covered in freckles…" Clint trailed off, realising he was rambling. Coughing uncomfortably, Clint asked -

"Nat, are you alright?"

The only thing she could say was -

"My Harry's alive."

—-

**Hey! I am sorry for the lateness of this chapter… I have had some family issues since I have come back, and it was my birthday two weeks ago, so…**

**Thanks for reading!**


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